03 June 2008

WTF? Man in a Can

"I pray that deathmay strike meIn the middle of a large meal.I wish to be buried under the tableclothBetween four large dishes.And I desire that this short inscriptionShould be engraved on my tombstone.'Here lies the first poetEver to die of indigestion"

Marc Antoine Désaugiers (1772-1827) French poet

In death as in life? Dr. Fredric J. Baur, an Organic Chemist and Aviation Physiologist left this mortal coil on May 4. He apparently felt that his finest accomplishment in life was not the invention of freeze dried ice cream or of specific frying oils - feats many of us could not conceive. No, in fact he felt that those achievements were surpassed by his creation of the Pringles Potato Chip can.

To that end, he requested that on his death, his family were to consign some of his ashes to a Pringles can. He received a patent for the package as well as the method of packaging Pringles in 1970 while working for mega corporation Proctor and Gamble. According to his daughter Linda L. Baur, "the Pringles can - a tube-shaped container designed to hold the salty, stackable, saddle-shaped chip - was his proudest accomplishment".

So on his death at the age of 89 at Vitas Hospice, his children honored his request. Part of his remains were buried in a Pringles can - along with a regular urn containing the rest - in his grave at Arlington Memorial Gardens in Springfield Township, USA.

I wonder which flavour can they chose and if the flowers by his grave were also held in Pringles cans? And were there potato chips and dip at his wake? Or cocktail franks and cheese on sticks? And did the guests leave thirsty and unsatisfied - as is the case on emptying a can of Pringles.

What was your finest hour?I have yet to know mine, but if I did would the disposal of my final remains reflect my accomplishments? I think not. How about you?

6 comments:

Each to his own.. miles and shoes and all that, but that strikes me as a bit trashy!

Furz and I have discussed and documented how we want to be disposed of.

Who ever goes first gets cremated and whacked in an urn. Urn gets pride of place on the bar at CFdM. Who ever goes next also gets cremated, and but into said urn. A quick shake to mix, and then we want to be scattered at sea, out from the beach where we got engaged.

Does that reflect out finest hour? I don't know about that, but it certainly reflects our lifestyle and accomplishments.

I think Mr Stickyfingers would be happy to have his ashes stored in Meredith Dairy's Marinated Goats Cheese Jars - he has probably eaten his weight in the stuff already ;)

Being a mad recycler, I'd be just as happy to have mine made into a diamond - yes, it can be done - or fed to the worm farm.

Though given the carbon emissions involved perhaps it would be better for me to be buried in a hessian sack under a tree in one of those new fandangled, free-form cemeteries that don't feature headstones and other extraneous paraphenalia?

I walked past the Prigles stand in tne local IGA today & coundn't think of anythiong else but ashes in the chips. Like Willy Wonka, I wondered if his final flourish was to have some ashen-golden ticket in its innards! I still didn'y buy themt hough, hate 'em!

I think I'd like to be cremated (preferably after death) then sprinkled from a gaudy air balloon over some large outdoor eating event - maybe the world's longest lunch. An extra bit of seasoning for the assembled sweeties and darlings.

About Me

Once upon a time on the fringe of a growing city of armchair Gastronauts, the wind swept a free spirit into the kitchen of a little house by the sea. And curious about her philosophical musings it stayed to watch the world through her eyes, carrying her dreams on the breeze to the far corners of the world.